


Try Again

by unsettled



Series: Old Adages [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Far From Home
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Fluffuary, Lab Sex, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Pre AoU, Science dates, celebrating, pre civil war, quentin has a big dick universe, smugness, younger quentin beck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Summary: Tony only came down because he missed Quentin's dick; he hadn't planned on doing any problem solving.(Prompt: Breakthroughs)
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Tony Stark
Series: Old Adages [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982093
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Fluffuary 2021





	Try Again

“Fuck. Run it again.”

Tony sighs. Look, it’s not that he has anything against working on something late into the night or next morning or until time doesn’t really have meaning anymore. And it’s not that Quentin doesn’t have reason to fixate on this; this project is  _ his. _ Well, sure, it came from Tony first, but Quentin’s the one that caught on to where it could go the fastest, and he’s been given lead on the whole project. It’s his big moment. Of course he wants it to go well.

It’s not. 

“It’s— why the fuck does it keep collapsing?” Quentin snaps. Pokes the screen projection and swipes back to the start of the whole sequence. “It doesn’t make sense. It should work!”

Tony shouldn’t— Quentin didn’t ask him to come down, and didn’t ask for his help. He wouldn’t; he’s awfully touchy about his pride, still. Tony’s handed over this project, so really, he should butt out now. 

He steps a little closer to Quentin and enlarges a portion of the screen. “Are you sure there isn’t—”

“Don’t even say it,” Quentin practically snarls at him. “I swear to god, Tony, if you ask me one more time if I’ve checked for errors— it’s not a mistake causing this! The premise is  _ flawed.” _

He glares at the screen like it’s personally wronged him. 

Goddammit, Tony thinks. He’d only come down because he’s missing Quentin’s dick; Quentin hasn’t been in his bed for the entire week, and even before that he’d been gone half the time. They’ve been stuck on this for almost a month now and Tony is tired of watching Quentin wind up more and more. 

“So it’s not a mistake,” Tony says. “Fine. But what’s the flaw? Where does it keep collapsing— it’s not changing, you said.”

“I don’t—” Quentin starts. Narrows his eyes and stares, a little unfocused. Not really looking at the screen at all. Tony opens his mouth.

“Shh,” Quentin says before Tony can even say anything, and Tony huffs. Waits, staring at the screen himself. He can trace it back to the first point of failure, that everything cascades from, but the reason it breaks there…

“What if—” Tony says, just as Quentin reaches forward and makes the exact change Tony had been about to suggest. “Yeah,” Tony says. “That.”

Quentin gives him a little sidelong glance. “Run it,” he says, and they watch. 

It completes.

Quentin stiffens next to him. “It— run it again,” he says, his voice tight. 

“It works,” Tony tells him when it completes again. “It wasn’t a fluke, you fucking solved it.” 

“Just—” Quentin says, staring. “Just once more. Run it again.” And then, when it keeps right on working, he laughs, a short, sharp, nearly breathless burst of air. “It works,” he says.

“It does,” Tony says. He can feel it already, the way the tension has snapped, the way Quentin’s slumping with relief, nearly weak with it. He can see it on Quentin’s face when he looks over at Tony, a little wide eyed and grinning.

“It  _ works,”  _ he says again, grinning wider, starting to laugh for real, punch drunk on success. It’s a good look on him; it’s Tony’s weakness. He knows the feeling. “Thank fuck!”

Tony catches him, pulls him closer. “I told you,” he says. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” and that’s probably what half the problem was, Quentin losing it a little bit thinking he wouldn’t. But he’s smart, he’s so fucking smart, and he gets how Tony thinks. He didn’t get lead on this project because of his pretty face or nights in Tony’s bed or impressing his supposed higher ups. He got it because Tony knew he’d be able to look at it and follow the train of thought beyond where Tony had time to take it. 

“Of course I would,” Quentin says, and Tony tries not to smirk. Quentin sways a bit against him, leaning in; Tony’s not even going to bother asking how long he’s been up. He knows that feeling too. 

“Of course,” Tony agrees. Agrees too when Quentin kisses him, when he pushes Tony up against the workbench right in front of that display. “You’re right,” Tony says, “I think a celebration is due. Come on, bed’s waiting for us.”

“No,” Quentin says, fingers working at the front of Tony’s pants. “Here. Right fucking now,” and Tony gets it. He knows— Quentin wouldn’t be Quentin if he didn’t want to fuck Tony right where he just won against the universe. If he didn’t want to do this where he can see the proof of it over Tony’s shoulder with every thrust.

“Thought you didn’t have a ‘lab thing’,” Tony says. 

“Shut up.” 

Tony laughs, letting Quentin push him up on top of the bench, pants caught around his shoes. “Now I know you don’t mean that,” he says. 

Quentin kisses him, slower, deeper. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “So why don’t you tell me again how smart I was.”

“Like you could stop me,” Tony tells him, and Quentin shudders. 


End file.
